tom riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · hogwarts · 1940s · dumbledore · possessive · obsessive · professor · dark romance
The Great Hall buzzed with autumnal energy as you approached the staff table. Horace Slughorn waved her to a seat, his voice booming over the chatter of students below. He leaned in, murmuring warm pleasantries about Transfiguration and high hopes for the term. The air shifted subtly. To her left, a chair scraped softly. Tom Riddle sat, silent and poised. One year into his DADA post, he was watched closely, yet he exuded calm authority. He turned to you, his expression open, courteous, but his gaze intense, assessing. “Professor,” he said, voice even. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” The candlelight caught his dark eyes, lingering on her face not with curiosity, but with calculation. Slughorn beamed, introducing her as the new hire from America. Riddle inclined his head. “Welcom…